


Reunion

by FireandSmoke



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireandSmoke/pseuds/FireandSmoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set four years after the Reinchenbach falls, Sebastian has got his life on track no matter how mundane and uneventful it is since Jim has gone</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunion

Sebastian was in a plain boardroom, grey walls, grey table, it was depressing. In the corner was a wilting fern, its sagging branches reaching for the clasp of window craving its own escape. Sebastian could sympathise, he never expected himself to be in this kind of place let alone with a different man for a boss.

His new boss was a Mr Douglas Wilberforce. He was getting close to his forties but if you were to look at him you would guess mid fifties. All the stress of living on the run for so many years has took its toll, along with the amount of scotch that man can drink. Eleven fifteen a.m. seems to be his favourite time. He tries to give off an air of sophistication and mystery, when in reality he stinks of desperation and bitterness. It's pathetic to look at. Everyone in his eyes seem pitiful when compared to the man he used to work for. Yet good money is good money, and in his line of work he can't be too fussy.

"So Seb," he says slowly ignore the glare that came from the man he was speaking to. At first Sebastian was insistent on being called Moran, then when that came to no good he aimed for Sebastian. Since the death of Moriarty he's cut all ties with anything that reminded him of the man he lost, and that includes all different versions of his name. "You target is this man. He's mid thirties, I wan him disposed of." He finished passing over a file.

"How exactly would you like this done? Long distance? Short range? Brutal?" Seb asked flicking through the file with mild interest. He's slightly better than the normal type he gets. The motive is clear behind them, a bad link to his family or his ex wife. At least this one had no clear link to his family for once.

"Brutal." He stated giving him a meaningful look before leaving slamming the door behind him.

Sebastian hailed a taxi while reading the file over once more on the way to his apartment. He gave up a lot after his death, his former colleges, the way he sees work, even Chuck had to be let go. He tried being a friend to him, giving him comforting looks and suggesting coming over to his for dinner so he wasn't alone. He had enough. Seb wasn't an injured puppy, he was a full grown man he could and sill can look after himself.

He gets home and lays the file on his desk, he then starts going through his drawers for his most brutal weapons. He dug through his drawers and paused when he found a silk tie. A Westwood silk tie. He clutched it tight and brought it to his nose, he inhaled and all the smells that made Jim him came flooding back.

_The body lay out on the floor, his face staring blankly at the sky. The gun still lightly held in his hand. At first he couldn't think, he didn't believe it was true. That was until he saw him laid out on the roof. The bullet firmly lodged in the back of his throat. Sebastian bent down and gently stroked his face and closed the body's eyes._

_He looked at him for a while; he didn't look like he imagined him to. He didn't look peaceful or relaxed like they say they do. He looked determined and ready for his plan to follow through._

" _You're a bastard you know," Seb hissed while straightening out Jim's suit. "Having to go and kill yourself. Would losing for once be so bad? Of course it would, look who I'm talking to."_

_He sighed unsure of what exactly to do; he decided to call up one of his colleges to deal with the body._

_He went to leave, and then something drew him back. The tie around his neck, it was a block colour with a simple design. Sebastian remembered buying it for him for Christmas the year they spent in Paris. He had it with him for a week, wondering and wondering if it was to his taste._

_He drew it from his neck slowly and folded it up into his pocket. He stroked Jim's forehead before bending down and placing a lingering kiss to his forehead._

" _Goodnight Jim," he whispered._

He wiped a tear from his eyes and placed the tie back in the draw. He leaned against it and took the time to gain control of his breathing. It was in the past now, he was never coming back and he is going to have to learn to deal with it. He settled on his weapon which was simple in nature, a cricket bat with a nail through it. It seemed to be one he goes for when it's close range and vicious, it was a way for him to vent out his anger and buried emotions in a controlled way.

The day of his job came; he was instructed to dress casual so he could fit in with his surroundings. He was dressed in slightly loose black jeans and an ordinary hoodie, this was another reason he hated his boss always reminding him of his place, that he was just an employee which until now he didn't know could be done with a dress code.

A sleek black Lamborghini pulled up in the driveway to his apartment, he picked up his bag which had his weapon in it and went to do his job. It went off without a hitch; he got his mark in a dark area of the woods and went at him until he lay dead on the floor. Due to the fact it was early in the park, there wasn't a lot of people around so he could leave the park blood covered and all.

When he got home he realised he didn't have that normal feeling after a successful job, the more he thought about the less Sebastian could think when he had that feeling. Yet he can always remember the first time he ever had that rush.

_Sebastian was in his early twenties when a letter came through his door. It was in a simple brown envelope and all that was inside was a letter which read:_

_Mr Moran, it has come to my attention that you are skilled in hand to hand combat. I am looking for someone with that level of skill; I have a starter job for you so I can establish a good understanding of how good you are._

_James Moriarty_

_Of course Sebastian took up the chance to show of his skills. So the following day he followed the instructions which followed the letter and arrived to this warehouse. When he entered a man in a smart suit stood waiting for him. Sebastian walked out slowly, glancing around him every now and again._

_The man was handsome anyone could tell that, his hair swept neatly back and he stood with an aura of power. He told him simply what to do when his target got here and from that he left where he stood and went to a place where he would be hidden but could also see what was going on._

_His target came in and the bag was removed from his head. His pale grey eyes tried to plead with Seb to save him from this fate. Seb picked up the weapon by his feet and hit the victim over the head with one sharp blow. Those pleading eyes finally left his and he could get to work without feeling too bad._

_Once done the man, James Moriarty, came over to him when the job was done and gripped his shoulder in a pleased way._

" _Very good Moran, very good. We'll be in touch soon." James said scanning over the body checking his handy work._

_Sebastian felt a rush of pleasure for being able to show what he can do and then be giving praise for it was even better._

Sebastian shook himself from his memories and climbed into the shower. Once showered and changed he headed out to the closet bar he could find, tonight he needed to drown himself from his thoughts.

He awoke in a strange bed, with a strange arm draped across him. The sound of soft snoring thundered beside his ear. He pulled the arm of him and leaned forward, a pounding automatically started behind his eyes, his vision became distorted and a strong sense of nausea flooded all around him. He was never drinking that much again.

He couldn't quite explain what it was that was different. The sex he gets when he wants is good, not fantastic, but good. It's satisfying but not filling. It seems when you've had the dangerous, that part which leaves you guessing whether you were good enough, that part when you're seeking to perform, seeking to show you can take what it gives you and you can meet it is never there when you're who can drop them. He's never thought of himself of a man who liked someone aiming to control him in that way, he's never even thought he was the man who  _wanted_ it. And it's only now after the man who provided him all of that has gone he realised that that part of him was inside.

He makes his way home at four in the morning fighting off what memory his brain was trying to conquer up. He has to move on, now matter how hard he pleads, begs or even prays, Jim isn't coming back from the dead. And crying outside in public, even if there is no one around apart from the glow of the lampposts near by is pathetic.

When he finally returns home something feels different, something off putting. It's not a feeling he's familiar with recently. He doesn't bother searching for a gun; he's kept them far away now, since he's no longer working for Jim the price for his head has been washed away. Instead he flicks on a light and slips out of his converse.

He hears mumbling coming from the bedroom and he goes on edge again. He pads quickly over to the door and pushes it over to sees a silhouette he's tried and failed to force out of his mind. His entire body freezes, his mind starts working over time to come to some logical conclusion to why a man that should be dead is standing in his bedroom.

The body turns to reveal an immaculate and clearly alive Jim Moriarty. Dressed head to toe in an immaculate suit, designer of course. Standing there like nothing has happened, that this was just like any other day."Ah Seb you took your time returning home. Now tell me was he good?" Jim says non plus.

"What… What are you doing here?" Seb asked once his voice got round to working again.

"To see you of course, I need some assistance on this plan I've got going." Jim says walking towards him.

Seb stays where he was, his eyes scanning over him to check that this is the man who has supposedly been dead for the last four years. "What makes you think that  _I_ want to help  _you_?" He says his eyes drawing like daggers.

"Honey I make your life entertaining," Jim states.

Seb bristles with anger over the use of a pet name. Nobody lies to him, and no one lies to him for years and expects to come back like nothing has ever happened. Not even Moriarty.

"Don't Jim." He practically growls, and pushes roughly past him. "You think you can swan up here in my house. The last time you where here was after that  _fucking_ mission for you."

Jim looks at him completely unaffected by the anger that has greeted him. "Didn't you have fun with that? Plus I thought it would be a nice touch showing up again in an intimate setting. Make it more dramatic."

Seb scoffs at him, "yeah you're all about dramatics."

Jim raises an eyebrow at him, "I expected some hostility from you, but you're acting like a wounded housewife Seb."

Finally turning to look at him Seb replied "how did you expect me to react? Run into your arms and follow your orders like nothing happened? You've been gone for four  _fucking_ year Jim. Four years! Four years of me seeing your name getting dragged through the mud. Knowing that the man you invested a good part of your life in is meaningless. Seeing people call a man you know a fraud, a fake when you know differently."

"I understand that it would of have been hard for you to find work after that…" Jim started before he was cut of by Sebastian

"Do you really think this is about  _money?_  Jim you know I have never cared about that. Work is nothing compared to a bloody body lying on the floor. Do you have any idea what it is to see that? Thinking that a man you… You know what it doesn't matter."

Jim stood there surprised by the uncharacteristic outburst coming from a man who normally was so put together and closed of from revealing any true deep emotion. Here he was revealing something so personally and raw it hurt him to know he was the one who caused it. He closed his eyes for a brief moment letting the words wash over him before replying "why doesn't it matter?"

Seb gave out a hollow laugh "cause when you're so fixated on outdoing Sherlock no one else matters. You never take anyone else's feeling into consideration just beating him. And guess what Jim you still didn't do it."

Sebastian's mention of the truth caused a silent moment between to two men, both trying to figure of something to say. One trying to make amends and justify his actions and the other… Well the other was just trying to continue with the hard exterior he created.

It was Sebastian who was the first one to speak, this time softer "I've got my life sorted and I don't need you Jim. I would appreciate it if you would leave, I've got a meeting with my boss in the afternoon."

Jim just huffed but respected his wishes and left. The minute he heard the front door close, Sebastian let out the shuddering breathe he was holding. How could he be back? It didn't make sense and now he had to decide what was best for him. Continuing with the life he barely had the one that was just a means of getting by and dealing with the mundane? Or returning to the one that constantly left him guessing and filled with adrenaline? And if he did return would that same feeling still be there or would it be tarnished with what has happened, being constantly prepared for when he would disappear?


	2. I Don't Need You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian takes the job for old times sakes, then washing his hands of Jim. This was him done with Jim Moriarty, if he could so easily slip from him why shouldn't he do exactly the same thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this written for a while, just been debating whether to post this or not. So here it is...

His meeting the following morning was boring and predictable. This allowed his mind to wander off and think about Jim. The man left four years and returned wanting his help, so does he still care for him? Or was it a one time job for old time sakes? The latter made more sense; he’s probably found someone new, someone younger, one with less personal baggage. It’s not like he didn’t see it coming, Sebastian himself is still in top condition that’s why he’s so high in demand. But Jim gets bored easily so he could get bored of him, it made sense.

 

He zoned back in to what his ‘boss’ was saying. He didn’t know why he stuck to one person giving him jobs to do when he could take a job when ever he wanted it. But having one person gave him security and safety, as if he failed it was his neck on the line also as people associated them two together. Yet Mr. Wilberforce would never be known as a boss to him, he was just a man in suit. The term boss meant you have some respect for them, whereas Sebastian had none. He felt nothing towards the man and up until now that had been fine. But until now he didn’t question any of the choices he made in the last four years. Up until now he didn’t have a reason to.

 

He looked at the picture of his target. A woman early forties, her fake red hair cut into a pixie bob. Clearly trying to look younger than she is.

 

“She’s a bitter reminder of the past. I want her disposed of,” he said coldly.

 

Sebastian nodded “of course Sir.” That was the thing, his motives were simple, emotionally tied, boring. The jobs he gives him are always simple, like he doesn’t truly understand or believe what he is capable of. This job was no exception, a bullet through the back of the head and get rid of the body. No big elaborate scheme, no torture. He barely gets to play with knives anymore. Until Jim came back he forgot how much he missed it all, how much he has been lying to himself all these years that he didn’t need that kind of life.

 

The task his boss sent him took three days to complete, and on the third day he quit his job and broke all entanglements he had to the man. It has taken him long enough; the man was dull, predictable and didn’t appreciate what Sebastian could do for him. He was never one to take being underappreciated. One the fourth day, and numerous glasses of whiskey he shot of a text to Jim agreeing on doing the job.

 

He ignored this phone until the loud banging on his door on the fifth day told him the job was a go. He grabbed his riffle, pocketed his phone and answered the door. There stood one of many henchmen that worked for Moriarty. The younger man gave Sebastian a sharp nod and a glance over, before turning in his leather shoes and walking down the stairs. Sebastian couldn’t help but notice the tailored suit the younger man was wearing, clearly he thought he was one of Moriarty’s top men and so clearly didn’t take too nicely with him being here.

 

The mission went smoothly, Sebastian just felt an annoying tick all the while he did the job. The little weasel Jim put in charge of him loved the display of power greatly. Everything Sebastian did differently to the way this kid worked received him a tut of disapproval.

 

Sebastian put away his beloved riffle while the clean up team did their job, none of them looked familiar to him. Clearly Sebastian was the only relic from the past Jim thought to bring back. The weasel was on the phone clearly to Jim, you could tell from the way he spoke. The sense to be respectful was present in his voice but so was an underlining flirty attitude to it, which grated on Sebastian’s nerves.

 

“Yeah the job is done _boss_ … I know but he works strange… I couldn’t do that…”

 

Sebastian growled, he wasn’t sure whether Jim was doing this for a ruse from him or this was actually genuine. He remembered similar talks he used to have after a job that was done well, the whispered dirty promises in a form as a reward to him. His skin itched at the idea of someone else was doing that Jim, he knew it was four years since how things were, but that still didn’t stop him from feeling jealous.

 

He ripped the phone out of the kid’s hand and sneered down the floor, “The job is done, make this one for old time sakes. I never want to hear from you again.” With that he ended the call and threw the phone against the wall causing it to break. He gave a smirk that the kid’s scared yet confused face before slipping from the roof and into the taxi that was waiting for him. This was him done with Jim Moriarty, if he could so easily slip from him why shouldn’t he do exactly the same thing?

 

It’s been six months since Sebastian did the job for Moriarty. It’s been six months since he removed himself from Jim’s life. It’s been six months since he’s even heard anything from the other man. It’s been six months and he’s only done three jobs. It’s been six months since he lost his drive in his job. It’s been six months since he’s realised Jim was no longer his.

 

As of late he’s been drinking himself in to a drunken state, a place where he shut off any thoughts of Jim. He’s been trying to claim back that emotionless state he managed to get himself into around the second year of Jim’s ‘death’. He’s been in numerous beds, men and women just trying to block out any thoughts. None of it seemed to be working, it seemed like now he knew Jim was alive his brain was just holding on to that fact. Driving him more and more insane with each passing moment.

 

He sees Sherlock and John on the news now, being greeted with cheers of joy. People respect them now, people care what they have to say, what they do. If he goes down the street, he’s graffiti of people believing his Sherlock. There are fan clubs over him now, stories people write glorying his adventures. They know of Moriarty now, although their opinion on him divided. Some are fixed on believing he was real, other think it was the work of fiction, a myth created from some person’s stories that people had taken as fiction. As for Sebastian no one knows who he is, and that’s the way he would like it to stay. He’s been slowly drifting off the most wanted list, his name becoming more of a rumour. They younger criminal don’t believe he was even around, others who swear they’ve seen him dispute on what he’s looks like. Some say he is a mad man, other know about his military past, some think his hair in sandy brown when other think it is as black as night.

 

He still does the occasional job, just to keep the money coming in and keep his name circling around the parts it needs to. The legend of his name is all he needs to slip back into the role if he ever wants to. Right now it doesn’t seem very likely.

He found himself in another bar for another night in a row. He found a corner in the dark, shady bar. He found that hiding in this corner spared him from being hit on, judged or just stared out by the less confident. Although tonight being stuck in a corner didn’t stop someone from sliding into his booth tonight. He got a scent of that familiar cologne, his closed his eyes and downed the rest of his whiskey.  When he re opened his eyes there was those dark, soulless eyes staring back at him with raw confident he seemed to loose. The stubble still flaked across the pale skin and his lips still arched into that cocky smirk.

 

“Seb, it seems you’ve been disappearing of late,” Jim commented, in his low amused voice. This was the voice he used when he wanted something from the other man, a voice he’s used many times in the bedroom.

 

Sebastian pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and stared back at Jim with a level look. “Your point?” he asked, his voice showing the hint of a sneer.

 

Jim smirked and slid further into the former sniper’s space, his eyes flashing with the old crazy excitement Sebastian used to see. It was a look he used to save for each other, one that meant his mind was purely on the man in front of him. No plans buzzing through that head, no thoughts of Sherlock, no thoughts of torture. Just him and only him.  Jim didn’t say any words, he never really ended them, and his hand ran down the side of Sebastian’s face. The cold eyes taking in every detail of the old lover, every new scar, the heavy eyes from the constant drinking and the sleepless nights. Despite how much Sebastian fought against it as first, his body leaned into the touch, his eyes trained on Jim, watching him for any sudden movements. When Jim leaned in, Sebastian followed. Their lips meeting, hard and rash. They were never one for sweet tender kisses, they weren’t those kind of people. This kiss was the anger, the resentment, the betrayal they both felt. The took out their anger on each other, gripping the clothes tightly, biting each other’s lips, pulling at the hair harshly.

 

When they broke part, they kept their hold on each other, neither one refusing the let go. They glared at each other, before Jim twisted out of the hold and walked out of the bar quickly, his designer shoes clicking against the cold floor. Sebastian didn’t even have to be told or even think about it, he was out off the booth and following Jim once again like a loyal puppy.

 

Once in the car the attack of teeth, lips, and tongues began again. Jim hands forcing up the other man’s shirt and his nails gliding across the exposed skin. Sebastian groaned at the rough touch and leaned in to it. The car door was open and the two broke apart and hurried into the building.

 

Once inside the unmistakeable surroundings of Jim’s flat, Sebastian was back on him. Forcing his against the wall as he slid a knee roughly between the Irishman legs, Jim wouldn’t have any control in this. If Sebastian was going to break and give back into his weakness it would be on his terms and his terms only. He un-tucked the small man’s shirt and undid it roughly, not caring if buttons flew across the floor. Once the chest was exposed, Sebastian withdrew his lips from the other man’s and replaced them on the chest. He bite, pulled and licked the exposed skin, his hands bringing the smaller man’s body to him, nails dragging down as he did so. The moans coming from the man, the whimpers the nagged breathing was too much for Sebastian. He hadn’t heard them in so long; he almost forgot what they sounded like.

 

He stripped out of his old shirt and threw it across the room. His lips returned to the collar bone of the Irish man, determined to leave a mark and remind that little weasel who Jim actually belonged to. It didn’t take long for him to rid the pair of them out off their trousers and underwear. He couldn’t help but smirk when he found a condom and a small tube of lube in the back pocket of the other man. This was his plan all a long,

 

He placed the condom on his member and coated it with lube. He then slicked his fingers and entered both of them into Jim. They were both a fan of it being rough and the look of Jim’s reaction it’s been a while since he’s had something like this. Good, Sebastian thought and curled his fingers inside of him. Just as Jim got used to his fingers being there, Sebastian removed them and gripped the other man’s leg strong as he pushed himself inside. Jim groaned loudly, his legs wrapping around the taller man’s waist and pushed himself further down. His eyes were screwed shut and his mouth hung open slightly. Sebastian leaned forward to kiss the exposed neck and moved in a steady but harsh rhythm with his hips.

 

The moans and groans tumbling out of Jim’s mouth were all Sebastian could hear, he had no idea what he was saying whether he was even saying anything. Their breathing became more and more irregular, and the thrusting of the hips became erratic. Sebastian stroked Jim’s member in rough, uneven strokes. It didn’t take long for either man to reach their orgasm. They both fell against the wall, struggling to control their breathing. Jim’s hand went out to reach the other man’s face, but he moved away and pulled out of him.

 

The sniper quickly got his clothes on and gave Jim one last look. “This doesn’t change anything,” he said, voice coming off cold and interested. This didn’t change anything, this was just for old time sake’s, like his job. Sebastian struggled with the idea of leaving Jim behind because his body craved for one last touch from the newly alive man. Now he had it, he could leave and disappear into the sea of people that flooded London. And so he left, without a goodbye or even a glance over his shoulder. As he walked from the flat he was leaving behind the old him, his old life and his old lover. He was finally ready to move on from Mr. Jim Moriarty. 


End file.
